


The Rainstorm Aftermath

by aderyn_merch



Category: The Scorpio Races - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-29 00:29:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21401167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aderyn_merch/pseuds/aderyn_merch
Summary: A year or two after TSR, another October storms comes to Thisby, trapping a certain Connolly in someone else's bed.
Relationships: The Kendricks
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	The Rainstorm Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> How have I not posted this?? Apologies that it is a little late for the season. (In my mind the water horses emerge on Oct. 13th, so I start my re-read on the 12th with the prologue.) I also reference this instance in my longer fic To Ride Again. Because apparently that's the kind of person I am.

Sean  
Puck and I stand at the stable doors and watch the deluge outside. The October wind tugs the rain into long strips that slant away from us and into the ground, which itself has already become saturated. When Puck sighs I can barely hear it over the pounding of water on the roof.   
“How long’s it supposed to last?” she asks.  
“Until tomorrow, early-morning.” I watched the storm build all afternoon, yet didn’t think it would get this bad so suddenly. “You could probably make it home.” It’s a reluctant admission.  
Puck exhales. “But it would be a wet and cold journey. And the chances of there being uisce around are very high.” I flinch a little at the idea of Puck running across a water horse in this storm. How had I forgotten about that? Only this morning I’d been preparing for that possibility.   
“Sorry. I should’ve sent you back earlier.”  
“Is there room in the groom’s quarters?”   
I do the quick math. Unless Malvern has recently laid someone off… “No. But if you ask, they will likely make room.”  
She crushes her ponytail to the back of her head with one hand, a movement she’s borrowed from Peg Gratton. It isn’t as fierce when Puck does it. Perhaps because the sweater she wears today is bulky and too long in the sleeves. “It’s still a walk in the rain.”   
“Then come up and get warm first,” I tell her, “And borrow a blanket.” It’s flimsy reasoning. Yet I can’t say what I want, nor do I know what I should say.   
“Do you have tea?” She hasn’t stopped looking at the rain.   
“If you want,” Reaching out, I close the door. We shuffle up the narrow stairwell, and into my tiny apartment. Within a few minutes, the kettle is boiling on the stove and we sit on the bed making a late meal of apples, bread and cheese.   
“Where’s your extra blanket?” Puck asks.  
Biting into my apple so my hands are free, I lean over and pull it out from under the bed. It’s an old wool one, dark green and spotted with a few small moth holes. Puck unfolds it and wraps it over her shoulders. Her sweater and my socks rest on the sink beside the stove, steaming as they dry.   
When the tea kettle starts to sing, we each take a mug of tea to finish off dinner, then sit in front of the radiator while the apartment slowly warms. As the rain pounds on the roof we talk about the horses, and the races. About the foreigners and islanders, and how the world carries on around us. But mostly, we don’t talk at all. We listen to the rain and drink our tea and think our own thoughts.   
And I keep telling myself I should send her off to bed, but instead we keep drawing closer. And soon we are leaning against each other, wrapped in my old blanket and nearly falling asleep.   
“Is there room in your apartment, Sean Kendrick?”   
I rest my cheek on the top of Puck’s head. I know what I should say. What Dory Maud, and Peg Gratton, and Gabe Connolly would want me to say. But different words slide off my lips.  
“For you, Kate Connolly, Puck Connolly? Always.” 

I wake to a rumble of thunder, and pull the sheets over my shoulders. Against my chest, Puck is warm and I can feel each steady breath she takes. I drift into sleep between each roll of thunder until there is one that doesn’t stop and I realize its feet on the stairs.   
Daly bursts into the room without bothering to knock.  
“East stables is burning!” He is frantic, almost unintelligible. His fingers fumble and switch on the light. Water drips off his hair and clothes. I sit up instantly, reaching on habit for my sweater only to realize that I fell asleep with it still on. I scramble for my socks and boots instead.  
“Are you getting the horses out?” I ask. Behind me Puck reaches over the bed to grab her sweater. Daly doesn’t answer and when I look up he’s gawking at Puck as she pulls her boots from under my bed.   
“Daly!” I snap, “Are they getting the horses out?”  
“Yes,” he stutters, “But there’s nowhere else to house them.”  
“The rain won’t put the fire out?” Grabbing my coat I slide into it. I nod, and Daly pounds down the stairs with Puck and I close behind.  
“Eventually,” he says. “But probably not in time. Pierce says it’s electrical. Lightning power surge.”   
I don’t care how it started, I care how it’s being stopped. We fling open the stable door and enter a world lit by yellow bulbs and lightning and smudged with rain. Before we go ten feet, we are as soaked as if we had been dropped in the ocean. East stable blazes beside the groom’s quarter, swarmed by men and panicking horses like flies around a corpse.   
“Divy up the horses and move them into the other stables–the aisles at least. Just get them out of the storm.” I tell Daly, then begin working my way through the crowd, directing horses and staff away from the fire. Puck has disappeared from behind me and I hope she hasn’t gone into the stable itself.  
The fire climbs onto the roof.   
I grab the nearest person, a stable hand whose name I can’t remember. “Is everyone out of the building?”  
“I think?” He has to shout to be heard over the rain, and it makes his voice almost squeaky. I need to be sure, so I run towards the fire and stand in the door. The inside of the barn is filled with smoke, glowing a gaudy red. I take a step in, but go no farther. In order to make sure the building was empty, I’d have to walk by each stall, and the roof won’t last that long. To enter this building now would be suicide. I’ll have to hope that everyone is out, and count the people and horses outside. I head back out into the rain.  
Malvern stands beneath a lamp post shouting orders. Several people have hooked a hose up to the pump, and are unwinding it towards the building. But it does little good. In a serious of creaks and moans, and one enormous crash, East Stables collapses in on itself.  
Then all the electric lights in the yard flicker out and only the lightning and fire are left.   
“Head to the main stables!” Malvern’s voice cuts through the storm. “The rain’ll put the fire out.”   
East Stables is abandoned as people scramble to get out of the rain. I rush with them, looking among the shadows of horses and men for Puck. She wouldn’t have gone into the fire. I run through a mental list of the horses that had been housed in East Stables and can’t think of one Puck would risk her life for. So she must be out here, or ahead of me. Yet I don’t see her hair, or a figure that walks like her.   
Then I turn around.   
Puck stands beneath the darkened lamp where Malvern stood, leading a mare and a foal so small it can’t wade through the mud. I run back and scoop the foal up, and Puck and I flee back into the main stable.   
Inside is a puddle of men and horses, illuminated by strobing flashlights. Malvern stands halfway up the stairs, the center of the circle of light cast by the only electric lantern. He watches the door close behind Puck and calls for silence. The men are quiet, but the horses still shuffle about in fear.  
“Mr. Kendrick,” Malvern says first. “Make sure all the horses were led out. If Connolly knows which ones were in East, take her with you.” Heads turn at the mention of Puck’s name. She’s supposed to be snug in her own bed right now and everyone knows it. Malvern doesn’t acknowledge the stares of the crowd or me again, but launches into taking attendance of stable boys and grooms. Puck gives me a nod and we hurry out into the rain. I point towards West stables and she runs over there and out of sight. I head to the furthest and newest stables, the one the older staff joking call the Mutt Memorial.   
It’s a rather pleasant space, despite whom its name alludes to. Inside two of the East Stable horses have been tethered to the building’s post. I cross their names off the mental list I have from East, and quickly check for injuries. Then I move on to the next building. I’ll have to send the grooms through to clean and calm them.   
I meet Puck back in the main stables as Malvern sends the grooms back out to tend the other horses. She lists off the horses in the stables she searched and we find the rest around us in the main stable.   
Malvern strides over to us, apart from the chaos of grooms tending displaced horses.  
“All accounted for?” He asks.   
I nod.  
“Settle them in for the night then. We’ll find long-term arrangements tomorrow morning. Goodnight, Mr. Kendrick.” Then he’s gone and the hours are stolen by the horses.

Puck

It’s sleeting when I walk back across the yard to the main stables. My clothes are heavy with the rain and I think my boots have more water in them than most of the puddles. Though, I can’t feel my feet to know for sure. Most of the grooms and stable boys have wandered back to bed, with the horses all settled in again. In the weak beam of my flashlight, I can see the steam rising off the ashes of East Stables. The power still hasn’t returned. Pierce, the only one here with any idea how electricity works, thinks East Stables tore the transformer off the pole when it collapsed. It’ll be morning before we get any light.   
My stiff fingers make the door handle difficult, but I step out of the rain and into the main stables. Swinging my shaking flashlight around I look for Sean, and find him putting the last mare from East into one of the larger stalls. He looks dry and put together despite the storm and chaos.   
“Need any help?” I ask, and I’m surprised how tired my voice sounds.   
He turns, almost startled, and leaves the stall door open as he comes towards me.   
“Puck.” He grabs my shaking hand, steadying the flashlight. “How cold are you?”   
“It’s sleeting,” I tell him. Standing still, my teeth start chattering and I cross my free arm across my chest. He hesitates; assessing me, then reaches his free hand out to rub at the collar of my cotton shirt that peeks out from under my sweater. His face goes still, almost blank in an expression I’ve never seen before.   
“Head back upstairs,” he says suddenly. “I have an extra shirt and some socks in the crate under the bed.”   
“What?” That wasn’t an answer to my original question. “Are all the horses–“  
“Kate,” he says my real name not like he’s scolding me, but like I’ve been ignoring him and it hurts, “Dry off and warm up.”   
It sounds wonderful, dry clothes and a blanket. I waver.   
“Everything’s taken care of,” Sean’s voice is quiet. I give in and trudge up the stairs towards the little apartment. It’s only slightly warmer than the rest of the stable, like all the heat from earlier has escaped. I fumble out of my boots and socks, then peel off my damp clothes. Shaking in my underwear, I scramble beneath the bed until I find the cedar box in which Sean keeps what few clothes he has. I pull on a shirt that hangs nearly to my knees and socks that almost reach the hem of the shirt. Then I climb into the bed. I should check the radiator, or turn on the stove, but I’m shaking so badly I might set the whole room on fire. Instead I huddle amidst the blankets and try to shiver myself warm.   
The entire bed smells like Sean, a mixture of horses and grass and dirt and something paler and warmer that I think is his sweat. I close my eyes and think about melting into it. Immeasurable time oozes by. My teeth stop knocking together, and I can start to feel my feet.   
There’s a few thumps by the door and a shadow enters. I can tell by the breathing its Sean. The radiator creaks and groans as he cranks it up. I am suddenly glad that it is gas and not electric.   
“Puck?”  
“Hmm?” I roll a little closer to the heat.   
“Have you eaten anything?” He straightens, shrugging out of his coat.  
“Its past midnight.” I slide my hands between my thighs in hopes that they’ll thaw faster that way. I’ve almost stopped shivering. What I need now is sleep, not food.   
Sean starts digging through the food he keeps by the window, helped by a flashlight he sets on the sill. “You spent five hours in a wet cotton shirt in near freezing temperatures. You should eat something.”  
“Five hours… oh,” And I remember, vaguely once, of the time my father’s boat got caught in a December storm. How he came home and Mum sent him to bed and scrambled for some soup and a hot water bottle. How she insisted he eat and drink and get warm, even though he was so belligerent he might’ve been drunk. Hypothermia, she had called it. So cold you couldn’t think and you started acting funny. So cold it could kill.  
Sean hands me a piece of apple cake and a mug of water, which I nearly spill. He sits on the bed and holds the cup for me as I try to eat the apple cake as cleanly as possible. Shivering makes me so unsteady that it’s easiest to just lean against him. And he’s solid and warm if still a little damp.   
I take the mug from him with both hands and am steady enough to drink without spilling it. When I hand it back, he stands to put it in the sink, and I slide back down under the blankets.   
“Warmer?”  
“Much,” My fingers are no longer stiff, and I can feel all my toes. I’m practically melting into the bed. Sean nods, pulls off his sweater and climbs into the bed next to me. I start to settle against his chest.  
“Your shirt’s damp,” I tell him.   
“You’re wearing my only other one.” His voice is muffled by my hair.   
“You need more shirts then.” I tell him. He sighs, and it tickles my ear and neck.  
“Oh, Puck,” When he sits up, the mattress rocks slightly. Taking off his shirt, he tosses it off the bed. Then he settles back down behind me. “Better?”  
“Much,” and I fall asleep warm and dry. 

Holly

I pull into Malvern Yards with Finn Connolly fretting in the passenger seat. I don’t think he slept much last night, in spite of my assurances that his sister was most likely here and perfectly safe. I haven’t told him the rest of my suspicions.   
Finn’s folding the oversized sleeves of his sweater into perfect cuffs when I park the rental.   
“Now,” I say, as I kill the engine. “From what I understand, she usually takes a yearling or two out in the morning. So I’d say check the gallops first. I’ll head into the stables and see if she’s there. Come back to the car if you can’t find her.”   
Finn nods. I get the feeling that in stressful situations he is glad for specific instructions. He pushes open the door and scurries out into the light rain. I wait for him to be out of sight before putting on my hat and heading towards the main stables. Once there, I head straight for the stairs and knock on the door of Kendrick’s apartment.   
The door isn’t locked, and I slide it open slowly. Two heads shift on the one pillow.  
“Kate Connolly,” I say, “Your younger brother is down in the yard searching for you and I don’t think this is where you want to be found.”   
Kate sits up so fast, a few of her curls fly away from her face. Sean too, pushes himself upright, and they look first at me then at each other.  
“Shit,” Kate says. She scrambles out of bed, the long shirt she’s wearing twisted up almost to her hips.  
“I’ll give you a minute,” I say diplomatically, and shut the door behind me.   
Standing in the stairwell, I can hear them both scramble into clothes and shoes. I lean back against the wall and smile. I told Sean last year what his destiny was, and maybe he didn’t yet have a yard of his own, but he now had Puck Connolly in his bed.   
Good for them. Damn good for them.   
The door opens and the couple emerges, looking slightly more put together.  
“What time is it?” Kate asks. She’s trying to force her mass of red hair back into one smooth ponytail.  
“About 9:15,” I say, “Not too late.”   
Her eyes go wide. I guess anytime after seven is late if you work on a farm. Giving us both a short nod, Sean dashes down the stairs. Puck ties off her ponytail and gives me a challenging look.  
“Where’s Finn?”  
“I sent him out to the gallops. I figured you’d want a moment to pull yourself together. Long night and all.” I start heading down the stairs.   
“Yes,” she says, then interrupts the minute I start to smile, “Not like that!” she insists. “Not like that at all. East stables burned! And then I nearly froze because I was stupid enough to be wearing cotton instead of wool and–“ she falters when she sees I don’t believe. Oh East Stables might’ve burned–a terrible thing Kate wouldn’t lie about– but I can’t imagine that she slept that close to Sean Kendrick and kept her hands off him.   
Kate gives a little frustrated sigh. “Oh, whatever. Just don’t tell Finn, ok? Or Dory Maud.”   
“Or Gabe?” I ask. Pushing open the door I lead Kate out of the stables. Finn is slouched against the bumper of the rental, but he shoots upright when Kate comes into view.  
“No one.” She lowers her voice and it almost sounds threatening. “As far as you are concerned, I spent the night in the hayloft.”  
“Alone,” I add, since it’s an important detail if she wants to save her reputation. She nods, looking relieved. We reach the car.  
“Well Finn,” I say, “Didn’t I tell you she was here?”  
Finn bobs his head up and down. He looks as if he’s been dragged out of the way of a fast moving truck. “I saw a burned building over there and thought–“  
“I just got caught by the storm.” If Kate’s lying, I can’t tell. “East stable burned last night. No one got hurt, but it was a bit chaotic here for a while.”   
I take my chance to make an exit. Something like anger is simmering up in Finn right now, and I think the Connolly’s need some space. “If that’s all you require of me, Finn, I’ll be heading out to pay a visit to Malvern.”  
I’m expecting a nod, like Sean would give, but Finn says “Thanks,” instead.   
I start off, and stop suddenly, with a bit of a devious ploy emerging in my mind. “Oh, and Kate. Is Sean Kendrick around here somewhere?”   
She looks genuinely confused for a split second before saying “Haven’t seen him yet. Try the gallops. Or the uisce stalls in the back of the Main Stables.”  
“Roger,” I tell her, then stride away listening to her arguing with her brother.


End file.
